Page 98 of Long Shot

I sit on the couch and Jack jumps up next to me. I slide my arm around his solid body and pull him closer for a hug. He laps at my wet cheek. “Jack. Oh, Jack.” I bite my lip. “Do you want to come to Los Angeles with me?”

He licks again.

How would I do that? I have no place to live there. Graham needs me right away. I’ll be pressed to find somewhere to live and move there.

Once again my eyes sting. I don’t want to go. I don’t want to leave everything I have here. But now . . . I have no choice. Because Cade doesn’t care about me. I’ve gone and fallen in love, but he hasn’t. And now there’s no way I can keep working at Conquistadors. Talk about painful and awkward.

Shit. I’ve screwed things up so badly. I should have known that getting involved with my boss was a bad idea. I should have known better than to think that I could possibly be deserving of so much goodness—friendship. Belonging. Love.

I’ve dedicated my life to my career, spending more time in the kitchen than anywhere else. I rarely saw my friends and family. And after the shooting, I realized how isolated I’d become. Here, it’s different.

A sob rises in my throat and I bend my head to lean it against Jack’s. It all feels so overwhelmingly sad right now. It’s late. Maybe a good night’s sleep will help me see things more clearly in the morning and know what my next steps should be.

Cade

“I’m sorry.”

I keep my face neutral, watching Reese across the office from behind my desk.

“I’ll work today. I hate leaving you in a lurch, but it’s probably better if I leave right away.” She squeezes out a tight smile.

“Yeah.” I see her point. It’s awkward. We vowed that nothing at work would change when we started sleeping together, but breaking up . . . yeah, that makes it uncomfortable.

It makes it fucking fiery burning hell, is what it makes it. She’s actually going to leave. She’s going to take the job with Chef Superdouche and move to L.A., which admittedly isn’t the end of the earth, but still . . .

Spots float in front of my vision and I clench my hands into fists, then swallow. “Okay. Appreciate that.”

She dips her head briefly, then turns and leaves to head to the kitchen.

She’s gained golden color from the sun since she’s been here, a few tiny freckles on her nose, but today she’s as pale as the day she came in for her job interview. But she seems composed and sure of herself. She’s made her decision.

I have to accept that decision.

It’s not surprising, really. I didn’t sleep at all last night, going over and over things in my head. I knew this would be the outcome. Of course it would.

Why was I so goddamn stupid as to think there was any possibility we could really have something together? That she might actually care about me? I’m an idiot. I know better. Love doesn’t exist. For me, anyway. Yeah, Beck and Marco seem happy, and I don’t want to be all cynical and harsh their glow, but for me . . . nah.

I should have stayed tougher. I know better than to let myself have all those feelings. Damn her! She makes me laugh. She makes me hurt for her. She makes me realize I’m a stubborn idiot because she is strong and brave.

She makes me . . . care.

I’m supposed to be in control. I’m not supposed to have these feelings. I’m not supposed to haveanyfeelings. Boy, did I fuck up.

I lower my head to my desk, my entire body burning.

I probably screwed up by telling her so much about myself. Why would she want to be with someone so messed up? Like so many other people I thought cared, she probably felt sorry for me. Like every other time I dared to hope . . . I was disappointed. I should have known better.

Whatever.

“Uh . . . you okay?”

I lift my head to see Marco regarding me with a notch between his eyebrows. “Yeah. Fine.”

“Problems with the sales numbers?”

“Nope. Sales numbers are good.” I slap my keyboard to wake up the monitor and present the spreadsheet I was working on. “Fantastic, even.”

“Okay, good.” Marco eyes me. “We still on for go-kart racing tomorrow?”

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